


Lean On Me

by xxCat1989xx



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11036931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxCat1989xx/pseuds/xxCat1989xx
Summary: Scott's having a bad day.





	Lean On Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is from Mitch's POV, which I can never seem to get right, so hopefully, it's not awful. 
> 
> I've had a bit of a rough couple of weeks and I'm very happy that I've managed to finish something! :D So yay.
> 
> It's only been checked by me so any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Enjoy,  
> Cat x

It’s not his own alarm that wakes him up that morning. It’s not the bright sunlight streaming through his open window (he really needs to remember to close the curtains before he goes to sleep). It’s not even the fact that he went to bed relatively early the night before so he could wake up refreshed and ready to start his day.

No. It’s the banging in the room next to his that forces him awake. It’s the cursing and the grumbling and the “why the fuck didn’t my alarm go off?” followed by another bang that makes Mitch jump.

Mitch rolls onto his back and sighs. There’s no way he’ll be falling back into his dreamless slumber, not with the herd of elephants that seems to have invaded Scott’s room. He blinks to clear the cobwebs from his sleep-fuzzy brain, rubbing at his eyes and stretching his body so far that he shivers.

He reaches for his phone to check the time and winces when he sees that it’s 8.35. Scott was supposed to be at a breakfast thing five minutes ago, something he’d had planned for a week. Mitch can only imagine how stressed Scott is right now. He quickly makes a plan.

Climbing out of bed, Mitch slips his dressing gown on and opens the door to his room. He steps out into the hallway but jumps back when Scott goes hurtling past him, nearly knocking him over.

“Shit, sorry, Mitchy,” Scott calls over his shoulder as he dives back through the doorway into his room. Mitch follows him in, watching as he picks through the pile of clothes on the end of the bed, discarding t-shirts and pants on the floor.

Scott’s face is flushed from rushing around, back of his neck damp and his hair hanging limply in front of his face. His shoulders are bunched up around his ears, back tensed under his thin sleep shirt; a sweat patch forming between his shoulder blades. Mitch sighs. It’s going to be a long day if he can’t get Scott to calm down.

“Scotty,” he calls out from the doorway. Scott doesn’t even hear him, turning to his closet and rifling through the hangers as he looks for something. “Babe?” Scott grabs a plain black shirt and hangs it over his shoulder as he carries on moving hangers and grumbling to himself. “Scott!” Mitch shouts.

Scott turns to him. His eyes are wide and unfocused as he panics. Mitch’s breath catches. He knows that look. Scott’s about ten seconds away from having a meltdown, and he really can’t afford to do that if he doesn’t want to be later than he already is.

“Scott, come here for a second.”

Mitch walks over to Scott’s bed and pushes the stuff on it back until he’s cleared enough space for them both to sit. He pats the bed next to him.

“No. Can’t. Late.” Scott throws the shirt onto the bed and goes to walk away, but Mitch catches his wrist and tugs until Scott almost falls into his lap. He tries to pull his hand away - “Mitch, I really don’t have time for this” - but Mitch holds strong, knuckles going white from how tight his grip is. Scott could easily break his hold if he wants to.

“Stop,” he orders.

Scott stops fighting. He slowly sits next to him, but Mitch knows he’s seconds away from bolting, knee bouncing erratically, shaking the bed from the force of it. Mitch puts his hand on Scott’s knee and the movement ceases. He watches as Scott takes a deep breath and pushes his hair back from his face with his free hand. Mitch sweeps his thumb over the back of Scott’s knuckles, back and forth until his skin tingles.

“So this is how this morning is going to go,” Mitch starts. He looks over at Scott and when he nods, takes that as his cue to continue. “You’re going to shower and put on something casual because you have a busy day. I’m going to call your breakfast meeting and let them know you’ll be there soon.”

Sometimes Scott just needs a plan; something to focus on to bring him out of his panic, someone to take control of a situation he’s losing grip of.

Scott nods gratefully. His shoulders relax and a small smile graces his lips. He drops his head to rest on Mitch’s shoulder. Mitch chuckles when Scott pulls him as close as he can with an arm around his waist.

“That sound okay?”

“More than. Thank you.” Scott drops a kiss to Mitch’s cheek before he walks into the bathroom. When he hears the water start, Mitch makes his way to the kitchen.

Thirty minutes later, after Mitch hands him a coffee in a to-go cup and makes him promise to drive safely - “No Instagram!” - Scott shouts “love you Mitchy” on his way out the door.

“Crisis averted.” Mitch sighs in relief and heads off for his own shower.

\--

It’s a few hours later and Mitch is on his way out to meet Scott at the studio when his phone chimes with a text. He slides it out of his bag and swipes his thumb across the screen.

‘ _Can you pls bring me a clean shirt_?’

Two seconds later, a follow-up text - ‘ _Bring pants too_ ’ - has him rolling his eyes. He puts his bag down on the side and walks down the hallway towards their rooms.

‘ _Do I want to know_?’ he texts back before dropping his phone on the end of Scott’s bed. He slides his sunglasses up onto the top of his head and surveys the, now tidy, room.

Mitch is glad he cleaned up in here after Scott left earlier. Scott’s clothes are all hanging up where they should be and not strewn across the end of the bed and floor next to it. Shoes are lined up on the floor in the closet and jackets hanging up neatly on the hook. He even made Scott’s bed with clean sheets for him in the hopes that it’ll relax him a bit. After the stressful start to the day, Mitch knows it’s going to be hard for Scott to unwind later.

He flicks through the rack, humming over his choices until he gets to a soft grey sweater he knows Scott loves and a pair of sweatpants. They don’t have anywhere to be tonight. Even Mitch is dressed down for their afternoon studio session, intending to be finished at the studio relatively early so he can unwind with a movie and glass of wine before bed.

Holding both items in his arms, Mitch grabs his phone, eyes skimming Scott’s response ‘ _Not really. You’ll find out soon enough_ ’. Mitch rolls his eyes again before heading out the door.

\--

Opening the door to the studio, Mitch steps out of bright sunlight into the dark room. He can hear voices but in the time it takes for his eyes to adjust, Scott is already standing in front of him, taking the bundle out of his arms. He quietly thanks Mitch and starts to walk around him, but Mitch reaches out.

Scott freezes at Mitch’s touch. It raises a red-flag in Mitch’s mind. Something isn’t right.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He’s only got a clear view of half of Scott’s face and he’s pale, so much paler than he normally is that Mitch is instantly on alert. What could possibly have happened in the few hours they’ve been apart? If it was really bad, Scott would’ve called, and even though Mitch was out shopping and wouldn’t have been able to hear his phone, he had no missed calls when he finally managed to check it.

Slowly, seconds bleeding into minutes, Scott turns and Mitch almost recoils in horror.

There’s a cut over his left eyebrow, the skin underneath purple and red and so swollen Scott’s eye is partially closed. Red stains his cheek. Mitch lets his gaze drift up and down, taking in the wound on his face, the downturn of his lips, the dark stain on his shirt that in the dim light Mitch can’t tell if it’s blood or something else.

He really hopes it’s something else.

Mitch reaches up, intending to bring Scott’s face closer so he can look, but Scott winces, turning his head away. Mitch puts his hand on Scott’s shoulder instead and squeezes, nails digging into Scott’s shirt.

“What the hell happened? Scotty?” Mitch’s voice gets impossibly higher, panic gripping at his chest. Who hurt Scott? What did he do? A million questions run through his brain until Scott reaches up to take his hand off his shoulder, holding it between them in his own. His grip is tight and steady. It eases Mitch’s racing mind enough to be able to focus.

“Nothing. I promise. I was getting a coffee and the door started to close. I didn’t see it and walked straight into the side. Busted my eye and spilt coffee down me. But I’m okay. Bit sore, but I’ll live.”

“That’s not nothing!”

Scott squeezes his hand harder, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle on the inside of Mitch’s wrist. “I’m really okay. Embarrassed more than anything. I was still a bit rushed after being so late this morning. Didn’t look where I was going.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to take you to see a doctor?”

“Mitch, stop fussing. You’re creeping me out.”

Mitch snaps his mouth shut. He leans forward and rests his forehead against Scott’s shoulder. Up close he can smell the coffee and it reminds him that Scott needs to change.

“Okay. If you’re sure…” He pushes back until he can see Scott’s face. His lips are pulled up into a small smile and Mitch can’t help but smile back.

“Honestly, I just want to get changed and work with you on this music.”

“Then let’s do this. I’m going to make us coffee, and not injure myself in the process, while you go do what you need to.”

Scott laughs. “That sounds great. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

\--

“Mitch, your turn to record,” Scott says, voice hoarse, as he exits the booth. His face is red from exertion, sweat beading at his temple. He’s been singing the same riff over and over again, refusing to give up until he got it right. But the smile on his face as he walks over to Mitch lights up the room, sets butterflies off in Mitch’s stomach at how gorgeous it is.

“I’m supposed to follow that?” Mitch cries, waving his hand around hoping Scott gets his point.

Scott ducks his head and rubs his hand across the back of his neck.

“Mitchy,” he breathes out, getting flustered. It makes Mitch giggle. He loves complimenting Scott, loves it even more when it embarrasses him; when he isn’t expecting it. Mitch showers him with praises and kind words whenever he can. He means every single one and, normally Scott just shrugs him off or says thank you. On rare occasions, he gets so flustered that Mitch sometimes wonders if Scott actually believes him.

“I mean it. You sounded amazing.”

Mitch stands from the sofa as Scott stops in front of him. Scott pulls him into his arms and hides his face in Mitch’s neck. The angle should be uncomfortable for Scott, but he never complains - just holds on tighter. Scott drops a kiss on his shoulder as he pulls away.

“Thank you, babe. Now, get in the booth. I want to hear your angelic voice killing these vocals.”

Mitch scoffs, pushing lightly at Scott’s shoulder. “Bet you say that to all the girls.” He winks when Scott guffaws and slides past him to head into the booth.

As he steps into the booth, ready to close the door behind him, there’s a crack and the lights go out.

“What the fuck?” Mitch shouts, whirling on the spot. He lifts his hand to feel for the door frame, but it hits something softer instead. He digs his hand into the fabric and feels his way up to what he thinks is a shoulder. “Scott?”

“Yeah, it’s me. You okay?” Scott takes his hand in his.

“Fine. What happened?”

“No idea. Hang on.”

Mitch feels as Scott reaches around him, hand roaming as he tries to slide Mitch’s phone out his back pocket. He giggles coyly.

“Mitch,” Scott warns, but he squeezes the hand he’s holding once before dropping it. His face lights up as he presses the home key on Mitch’s phone. He presses a few buttons until the camera light comes on. He shines it around the room. “Everyone okay?”

The guy at the soundboard nods, pressing buttons, but nothing happens. “Power’s out.”

“Great,” Scott sighs. He heads over to the door, Mitch following closely behind. He’s not scared of the dark, but Scott has the only light at the moment and he feels much safer next to him. Mitch reaches out to grasp the back of his sweater.

Scott pulls the door open and looks up and down. Someone next door must be doing the same thing because he asks, “You too?” before groaning at their muffled response.

“Scotty?”

Scott turns back to him, closing the door quietly. “Next door is out too. Must be the whole building.” Mitch’s phone chimes in his hand and Scott turns it over. “Kit just text. Power’s out where she is as well.” Scott tilts his head in thought. “Might be the whole city.”

It’s Mitch’s turn to groan. There goes his evening plans. They’re going to be here until it’s back on, pushing his idea of a wine and movie night out of his reach. Who knows how long it’ll take to get the power back on. They only have today to record this song, Pentatonix stuff taking priority the rest of the week.

He’s so lost in his head that he jumps when Scott shouts, “This is bullshit!”

“What? What is?” Mitch puts his hand on Scott’s arm as he presses more keys on the screen. He tries to read it upside down but gives up when Scott’s scrolling makes him feel dizzy. He settles for rubbing a comforting hand up and down Scott’s arm.

“Local news said it could be a few hours before it’s fixed.”

“That’s okay. We’ll just wait it out.” He tries to sound a lot calmer than he feels but knows he’s failed when Scott eyes him dubiously.

“Mitch, this needs to be done today.” Scott hands him his phone back, sending the room into darkness once again. Mitch can hear sounds the other side of the room; people setting up battery powered lights and muttering between themselves. A faint light comes on in the corner of his vision, but he’s too focused on the person in front of him to pay it any attention.

“I know, babe. And we will. Come on. Let’s go sit.”

Mitch guides them over to the sofa and settles back, dragging Scott down with him and tucking him into his side. Scott rests his head on Mitch’s shoulder and slides his arm across his stomach, erasing any space between them. Eventually, he fumbles his hand under Mitch’s shirt, Scott’s warm hand spanning the space between his hip and the bottom of his ribs.

The longer they sit there, Scott’s hand tracing patterns on his side that Mitch gives up trying to discern, the heavier his eyes feel until he can’t keep them open anymore.

\--

An hour later the power comes back on, waking them both from their impromptu nap, and another hour after that, they’ve managed to lay down Mitch’s vocals and start layering them with Scott’s. It’s still a work-in-progress though, but Scott looks so happy with how it’s turning out that Mitch keeps his mouth shut and all sarcastic comments to himself. He ‘um’s’ and ‘ah’s’ in all the right places; anything to keep the smile on Scott’s face - a direct contrast to how stressed he’s been most of the day.

It’s getting late when it’s decided they’ve done all they can do. They’ve been lying on the sofa for a while, Mitch’s head on Scott’s lap as he browses Instagram while Scott talks over him.

Scott’s been rubbing his good eye for the last ten minutes, hiding a yawn in the crook of his elbow when he thinks Mitch isn’t looking. When Mitch tries to show him something on the screen, he winces at the bright light and Mitch decides enough is enough.

“Come on, babe. Time to go home,” he says. He stands from the sofa and stretches his arms above his head. He startles when Scott touches his side, fingers light and teasing. “Don’t even think about it.” The warning in his voice is clear and Scott holds his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

Mitch rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” He walks over to his bag, sliding his phone inside and pulling out his car keys. “I’ll meet you at home?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Scott waves over his shoulder, not really paying him any attention. He messes with the buttons on the soundboard. Mitch knows that look. Knows that if he doesn’t make Scott promise to follow him, he’ll be coming right back to drag him out of the studio.

“Scott, I mean it. It’s been a long day and we have work to do tomorrow.”

Scott looks like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar when he meets Mitch’s eyes. His eyes are alight with amusement and the corners of his lips tilt upwards in a smirk. “I’ll be home soon. Promise.”

“Okay. Love you,” Mitch shouts over his shoulder as he leaves, wondering if it’s not too late to pick up that wine he wanted.

\--

He’s leaving the store when his phone starts ringing.

Mitch curses as he struggles to keep hold of the bag of groceries he remembered they needed with one hand, fumbling for his phone with the other. He holds his car key with his teeth, mumbling “oh my god” to himself as his phone keeps ringing.

Successfully keeping hold of everything, Mitch makes it to the car, pressing the button on the keyfob to open the doors. He sets everything down on the driver’s seat as he presses the green button on the screen.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greets, not even looking to see who’s calling.

“Mitchy.” There’s sniffling on the other end of the phone and Mitch pulls it away from his ear. ‘ _Scott_ ’ it reads. Mitch is instantly on alert. What the fuck has happened now? He was _fine_ twenty minutes ago when he left the studio.

“Scott? What’s going on? Where are you?”

More sniffling has Mitch rushing to push everything into the passenger seat so he can climb in the car.

“Scott? Where are you?” he tries again. He jams the key into the ignition and turns the car on while he waits for a response.

“Still at the studio. Can you come get me?”

“Of course. I’ll be there in a minute.” Mitch hangs up and tosses his phone on the seat with his bags. When he’s back on the road, he takes a deep breath and tries not to panic. It’s easier said than done.

\--

Mitch swings his car into the parking lot of the studio, barely even tapping the brakes, and pulls the car to a stop next to Scott’s. It’s when he gets out he notices that Scott is sitting in the car, leaning over the steering wheel, head resting on his arms. Mitch can’t see his face, but he can see his shoulder’s shaking.

Without even turning his car off, he jumps out and rushes over to knock on the window. Scott jumps at the sound. He turns to face Mitch and his face is wet with tears. Mitch’s heart stops.

He wrenches the door open and steps up to Scott’s side. Scott practically falls into his arms as soon as Mitch is close enough. Mitch huffs at the weight, so adjusts them until Scott’s face is tucked into his shoulder and Mitch isn’t in danger of falling over.

Mitch slides his fingers into the short hair on the back of Scott’s head, scratching his nails on the surface in an attempt to comfort him. A few moments later, Scott takes a deep breath and pulls away from Mitch, wiping at his eyes.

“Hey, are you okay?” Mitch asks, brushing his hands across the tops of Scott’s thighs, squeezing slightly.

“I’m okay. Sorry.” Scott clasps Mitch’s hands in his.

“What happened?”

Scott lets one of his hands go and reaches for his car key. He turns it and the car ticks over for a second before dying. Mitch can’t help the laugh that escapes. A blush forms on Scott’s cheeks as he ducks his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He squeezes Scott’s hand. “But why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” Scott whines in embarrassment. “It’s just been a long day and this was the final straw I guess.”

Mitch hums in agreement. He knows all about that. Not too long ago it was Mitch who had had a bad day and Scott did everything in his power to make sure he was okay; made sure he ate and drank and took a breather when it all got too much. It’s nice that Mitch can return the favour when the moment calls for it.

“Okay. Come on.” He pulls Scott’s key out of the ignition and gestures for Scott to grab anything he needs. “We’ll call for a tow in the morning. It’ll be fine left here overnight.”

When Scott slams the door shut, Mitch locks Scott’s car before opening the passenger door of his own. He grabs his bags and pushes it all into the footwell behind his seat. When he stands, Scott is looking at him, eyes unfocused and drooping in tiredness. He’s really had enough of today, Mitch thinks. He guides Scott into the car and helps him with his seatbelt before running around to the driver’s side. Probably a good job the car didn’t start; Mitch wouldn’t want Scott driving in this state anyway.

“Let’s go home,” he says as he pulls out of the parking lot. Scott reaches over for his hand and Mitch lets him hold it all the way home.

\--

Stomping feet follow him into the kitchen as Mitch drops the bag of groceries on the side and starts to put things where they belong.

“Want a glass of wine before bed?” Mitch shows him the bottle he bought.

“No, I think I just want to go to sleep.” Scott stands awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. His mouth opens like he’s going to say something, but he turns away before he does.

“Hey, Scotty?” Mitch calls to his retreating back. Scott stops and looks at him over his shoulder. “Want to sleep in my room tonight?”

The bright smile he gets in return is good enough for him.


End file.
